


but the words you say are sweet

by lizwillstealyourgirl



Series: seventeen poems [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: ??? bill denbrough, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Ben Hanscom, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Everyone Is Gay, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Inspired by Poetry, Lesbian Beverly Marsh, M/M, Poetry, he's not come out yet so y'all don't know but me does, set in 2017, the other losers are not in for very long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 01:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17274383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwillstealyourgirl/pseuds/lizwillstealyourgirl
Summary: love is an art too.(ben is worried about coming out, but bill...not so much. begins at the end of you trip over your tongue. bill's perspective.)





	but the words you say are sweet

**Author's Note:**

> wHOa it's been a year,,, since I said "part 2 coming soon"! I actually finished it months ago but I haven't had a computer until this Christmas so I'm posting it now! I hope to finish this series very soon as I actually,,, kind of like it. ok enjoy this it's gay and poetic

bill wasn’t sure what all this was. after all those stupid crazy monkey caramel crunch milkshakes, he was sure ben would never notice him the way bill noticed him. the milkshakes were starting to make bill sick to his stomach, with how sweet and rich and ben they were. but when bill begged to come over for the hundredth time in those three days, and ben finally let out a soft ‘ _ okay’, _ bill thought everything fell into place.

 

and so he knocked on the door, all scared and quiet and nervous, and ben answered as fast as bill’s heart was beating. “hey,” bill gushed, and ben almost smiled and bill’s heart started racing a marathon even faster than before. bill couldn’t possibly say  _ no _ when ben asked to go for a walk, just the two of them because ben needed a  _ breather  _ and bill needed to  _ be with him. _

 

they walked off, elbows almost knocking into each other and bill was hyper aware of the fact that ben was short enough to lean his head over, and then he might just be able to hear bill's heartbeat. and he turned his head and saw a furrowed brow and a practically pouting ben hanscom, so he let out a stuttered, “are y-y-you okay?”

 

“i have to tell you something,” ben’s voice was desperate and bill sort of wondered if maybe he’d been caught, the way he always stared at ben when nobody was looking, or how he counted their heartbeats to see if they would thrum in time, or how sometimes when ben dozed off during their sleepovers bill would let their fingers intertwine.

 

bill stammered, “w-w-what’s wr-wrong?” fear bubbled in his lungs like acid or lava or something disgusting that burned like a spark and spread like a wildfire.

 

instead of responding, ben sat him down at the park bench and that bubble in bill’s lungs turned into an explosion. a gentle  _ “i’m sorry”  _ was whimpered out to bill just as a bundle of thin, wrinkled paper was stuffed into his palms. “w-what a-a-are these?” bill’s voice cracked like the popping of a fire pit. ben pursed his lips a little bit and bill couldn’t bear to look at the papers or at ben, who couldn’t face him either.

 

“poems,” ben added, “you.” bill wondered if his brain had short-circuited too.

 

“t-t-they’re about m-me?” bill mumbled, blushing and red, and ben nodded. “but t-t-they’re l-l-l,” he stopped, starting over when the word got stuck on his tongue, “t-they’re r-romantic.”

 

“yeah,” ben said, quietly and maybe kind of scared.

 

quietly, softly, sweetly, bill mumbled out a, “t-there’s a l-l-lot of them,” as he flipped through the papers like skimming a book. the dates were as old as a few months prior - october seventh seemed to be the earlier one, with three days before (december twenty eighth) the latest.

 

billed smiled sweetly. “c-c-can you say a-anything other t-than y-y-y-yeah?”

 

“yeah,” ben grinned back, a little bit tender and a little bit scared.

 

bill smiled a little bit. maybe this was good, maybe this was something that bill could give a shot at. maybe this was something ben  _ wanted _ to give a shot at. “c-c-can i r-read th-them?” 

 

“yeah,” ben said again, bill tilting his head in confusion toward ben’s inability to form coherent sentences. “I’m surprised you haven’t yet.” as if bill would’ve just ignored all the anxiety and fear that ben maintained, as if bill would’ve seem the way ben scuttered around with sweaty, wringing hands and  _ still  _ read the poems without asking first.

 

“i-i...i just w-wanted to b-b-be sure,” was the only way bill could put that into words. when bill looked over at him, ben was staring so deeply and strongly and bill’s heart was thumping and he worried, just for a second, that ben would hear the pounding in his chest if they made eye contact for another second longer. ben seemed to have no response, which bill was glad of, so he dragged his eyes away from the man that sat before him, and instead read the poems in his hand. he read every single one.

 

* * *

 

 

10/7/17, understanding is underwhelming

__ it’s almost as if  
__ this thing that i’m feeling  
__ is something i’ve never known before.  
__ so when i sit in your room,  
_ all i can do  
_ __ is wonder if you feel this thing too.

 

 

10/9/17, you trip over your tongue

__ all words are unbalanced and scattered  
__ but you seem to speak to a rhythm.  
_ it’s as if you believe that if you say the words incorrectly  
_ __ your heart would thrum offbeat.

 

10/10/17, gold

_his eyes shine gold in the sunset,  
_ _(nothing’s ever filled me with this much regret)_ _  
__and his smile is pink and glossy in the light_ _  
_ _(but i can’t seem to breathe without all this fright)_ _  
__and i think in a better life i would’ve kissed him softly_ _  
_ __(oh how i wish this were a better life.)

 

10/14/17, cherry wine

_there aren’t so many words as the ones you know_ _  
__an unlocked door that’s barreled and closed_ _  
__a scream of twilight that sparkles and shines_ _  
__the stars, the moon, all attest to read between the lines_ _  
_ _  
__i tried to find the sound of your heartbeat_ _  
__but the knocking is too loud and too sweet_ _  
__a flash of lightning or perhaps of the sun_ _  
__the stars, the moon, all wait for me to become undone_ _  
_ _  
__the flowers seem brighter when the sky is lighter_ _  
__and i’m not so much a loser as i am a fighter_ _  
__but still it’s sour so i begin to redefine_ _  
___the stars, the moon, they’d all prefer his cherry wine.

 

10/17/17, memory is fleeting

_ memory is fleeting _

_ it’s a shot in the dark and a prayer that’s screamed out _

_ as if you yell loud enough _

_ shout angrily enough _

_ beg hard enough _

_ god will hear you and grant you remembrance. _

_ and i wonder, _

_ since memory is fleeting, _

_ if i run away will you remember me _

_ as the one who turned his back _

_ or the one you couldn’t face? _

 

10/18/17, hope is a hard thing to hold

_it felt like he was holding my heart_ _  
__the day he held my hand_ _  
__and i hope my scars don't tear us apart_ _  
___because his eyes are like the waves crashing in the sea

_and i love the break in his breath when he looks at me._ _  
_ _  
__i hope he doesn't remember me_ _  
__as the poet with stretch marks and babyface scars_ _  
__i hope he remembers my stories and my songs_ _  
__i hope he looks back at our time together with a smile on his face_ _  
__i’d hope he sheds a tear or two when he hears that i've passed_ _  
__or that he thinks of me as he leaves too._ _  
_ _  
__and i don't hope that he's heartbroken in the act of my going away_ _  
__but i do hope that in 20 years from now he sits in our cafe_ _  
__and glares at the creamer in his coffee_ _  
__because now it's too light to be my eyes,_ _  
___but before, he didn't know to like the taste.

 

10/27/17, the smell of roses

_the smell of roses is like blushing,_ _  
__or maybe it’s like smiling._ _  
__it’s laughter etched into a stone wall,_ _  
__or a dimple that’s tattooed on your skin._ _  
__it could be red,_ _  
__or maybe just sweet,_ _  
__but either way,_ _  
__at the end of the day,_ _  
___i think it smells like you.

 

11/1/17, good mornings

_in the early morning sunrise_ _  
__it’s as if i haven’t woken yet_ _  
__for the way your arms are wrapped around me_ _  
___i fear i might forget.

_  
__but our chests are pressed together_ _  
__and our hands are softly touching_ _  
__and your breath is as light as feathers_ _  
___and i think that i fear nothing.

 

11/3/17, devastational

_what does love look like?_ _  
__your smile tastes like pineapple,_

_and smells like the ocean floor_ _  
__i’m drowning in the feeling_ _  
___of how the air moves back and forth

_like waves on a rocky shore._ _  
__addiction isn’t so much silly_ _  
__as it is devastating;_ _  
___i’m hooked on you anyway.  
  


_ (going to start marking the number of poems, because this is ridiculous -bh) _

 

poem ten, 11/12/17, butterflies

_it’s really very hard to explain how you make me feel,_ _  
__but i know i’ve never felt anything like this before._ _  
__some mornings i wake up and i can’t believe you’re real,_ _  
__for when your fingers dance on mine, i soar._ _  
_ _  
__and in my stomach, there are no butterflies,_ _  
__instead, my stomach is a home for wasps._ _  
__my eyes get cloudy and my tears crystallize,_ _  
__and i trudge along through all of your swamps._ _  
_ _  
__you make me feel something i’ve never known,_ _  
__this feeling isn’t beautiful the way that you are._ _  
__this feeling isn’t just butterflies and holding hands under headstones._ _  
__this feeling is more like the explosion in your heart that’s a little bit like a star;_ _  
__this feeling is more like the blood rushing in your ears so loud it’s all you hear;_ _  
__this feeling is more like dirty hands and bloodied knuckles that you forget how you got;_ _  
__this feeling is more like bruised knees and swollen ankles from falling without being caught._ _  
_ _  
__this feeling isn’t always beautiful like the stories say._ _  
__this feeling isn’t always butterflies._ _  
___but it’s also not always wasps.

 

p. eleven, 11/19/17, sugar

_he is sweet, unlike anything i’ve ever known_ _  
__he is metaphors that melt on your tongue like honey_ _  
__he is words that become whispers that become shivers under your skin_ _  
__and he is electricity crackling beneath your fingertips._ _  
_ _  
__he’s a cup of cold coffee in the earliest hours_ _  
__he’s a galaxy in a writer’s body_ _  
__he’s a little bit of laughter and a little bit of lightning_ _  
__and he’s sugar and spice and everything nice._ _  
_ _  
__but sometimes he’s snips and snails and puppy-dog tails_ _  
__he’s a tsunami on the shoreline of a soap opera set_ _  
__he’s a rollercoaster ride built on your own broken dreams_ _  
__he’s nightmares that push your woes around and lick your wounds away_ _  
__he’s got bite and bark and teeth and terror._ _  
_ _  
__because sometimes hope isn’t just pretty;_ _  
___sometimes hope is scary too.

 

twelve, 11/24/17, i see your brave

_you are a beautiful person,_ _  
__your body, mind and soul._ _  
__some days i wonder if you hear me speak at all._ _  
__but i hear you, your smile and your eyes._ _  
___and to me that is enough.

 

thirteen, 12/1/17, you are my destiny

_in every world,_ _  
__on every planet,_ _  
__through every galaxy,_ _  
__of every universe,_ _  
__and every life,_ _  
__i believe you and i_ _  
___are meant to be.

 

fourteen, 12/7/17, i want to be

_i want to be held._ _  
__the body that holds me is warm;_ _  
__you are soft and sweet all over,_ _  
__and your arms hold me tight,_ _  
__while your bones keep me close._ _  
_ _  
__i want to be kissed._ _  
__your smile won’t fade when we touch;_ _  
__you are soft and sweet all over,_ _  
__and your lips taste like cotton candy,_ _  
__the type that melts on your tongue._ _  
_ _  
__i want to be loved._ _  
__we shop for groceries every monday afternoon;_ _  
__you are soft and sweet all over,_ _  
__and your apartment is mine too,_ _  
__just like my bed is ours to share._ _  
_ _  
__i want fire to breathe down my neck._ _  
__i want the wind to intertwine its fingers into mine like you do,_ _  
__i want the coffee you make in the early morning to burn my lips like you do,_ _  
__i want the pizza you order in the late night to sizzle on my tongue like you do,_ _  
__i want the world to bow down for you, to crumble at its feet for you, to beg and plead for you, like i do._ _  
___i want to be loved by you like i love you.

 

fifteen, 12/15/17, a shout into the void   


_love is sometimes a little bit useless,_ _  
__and it’s sometimes a little bit worthless,_ _  
__and sometimes, i love you is just an array of sounds strung together with meaningless definitions._ _  
__but i’m not the kind of person to deny what i believe to be true,_ _  
__so love is sometimes useless,_ _  
__and love is sometimes worthless,_ _  
__and love doesn’t always matter,_ _  
_ _and i love you is sometimes just a shout into the void,_ _  
__but i would gladly scream those words into that emptiness_ _  
___if only for the fact that i get them off my chest.

 

sixteen, 12/21/17, heart houses

_in the nighttime, the hammering of the tools in your heart sometimes are forgotten._ _  
__the cluttering, clinking and clanking is quiet, as the sun in your eyes sets._ _  
__your person pauses his production, sets his weapons down and goes to rest._ _  
__he will begin again and again._ _  
_ _  
__in the daytime, the hammering of the tools in your heart are like second nature._ _  
__the thump thump thumping is the thing that keeps you breathing._ _  
__your person is at work, and he moves as you do._ _  
__he will begin again and again._ _  
_ _  
__this person, your person,_ _  
__he doesn’t ever give up._ _  
__for when nighttime encompasses you,_ _  
__and tire distresses you,_ _  
__and hopelessness overwhelms you,_ _  
__he pauses his work so you can pause too._ _  
__but he doesn’t stop,_ _  
___he never stops.

_he will begin again and again._ _  
_ _  
__this person, your person,_ _  
__he loves you dear and so._ _  
__for when you are too far gone to love back,_ _  
__and your head is crumbling with the facts,_ _  
__and hopelessness overwhelms that,_ _  
__he pauses their building so you can pause too._ _  
__but he doesn’t stop,_ _  
__he never stops._ _  
_ _  
__this person, your person,_ _  
__he’s a person who builds and pauses and builds again._ _  
__and maybe there’s no such thing as bad people and good people._ _  
__maybe it’s just “their people” and “your people”._ _  
__maybe it’s just who we love, and who we are,_ _  
___and who builds houses in our hearts.

 

seventeen, 12/28/17, canis majoris

_ his words are wildfires on his raw tongue, _

_ the sentences he barely strings together are forests alight. _

_ his eyes are blue and green and though they are not ablaze, _

_ they flicker like a star burning out in the sky. _

_ his words are flames and his sentences are sparks and his eyes are constellations that explode like fireworks on new year’s eve, _

_ so i can’t help but wonder if his lips burn too. _

 

 

* * *

 

seventeen poems. seventeen poems, and ben said they were all about  _ bill _ . the words were swarming his thoughts like the wasps in that one poem, and bill wondered if that’s what ben had meant. his heart pounded and his head throbbed and his throat felt like a desert and this felt like an oasis and he couldn’t help but rest his head on the shoulder that was just so close to his. ben’s hand fell to his lap. “what,” ben paused, beginning again, and bill noticed his throat close up and his eyes avert away, “what did you think?”

  
what did he think? he thought that all the writing on paper couldn’t ever amount to how bill felt. he thought that if he followed his heart, listened to the music in his soul that seemed to play in time to the beat of ben’s chest  _ thumpthumpthumping _ , that maybe it would steer his lips into the direction of ben’s. all the words in the world couldn’t possibly discern what bill thought of the poems - only actions could.

 

and the only action bill could conjure up in his mind was listening to that beat in his soul, so he grabbed ben’s chin and pressed his lips gently and softly and  _ desperately  _ unto ben’s.

 

when they pulled away, bill couldn’t bear to open his eyes. he was worried that if he opened his eyes, all of this would be a dream and everything would go away, fade right before his eyes. a hand laid sweetly, too sweetly onto bill’s chest, curling into a fist and gripping tightly at the stupid flannel bill always seemed to wear. bill prayed to whoever the fuck was out there, that their divinity would let this kiss be something he could experience every day until he’s six feet under.

 

ben laughed. bill opened his eyes, heart beat faster than ever before, for the worst reason. his mind replayed  _ fuckfuckfuckfuck _ over and over until it didn’t even sound like a word anymore.  _ was all this a prank? _ bill thought, and he shouldn’t have thought but he thought too,  _ what if none of this was real? _

 

“w-w-w-what?” bill asked, and that  _ fuckfuckfuckfuck  _ and that chest pounding and that mind racing only built and built and built like a rollercoaster ride to the sky.

 

ben shut his eyes like he was trying to sleep. “sorry, i just was thinking about something.” bill raised a curious eyebrow. ben continued, “it’s just funny to me that i’ve been pining over you for like three months and somehow you feel the same...or whatever you feel…”

 

“the s-s-same,” bill confirmed gently, “it’s the s-same.” he smiled, and his heartbeat sounded more like the rhythm of an acoustic guitar, and the array of his thoughts only painted a picture of the boy with brown eyes and dusty hair and the sweetest tasting smile and  _ my god _ , so  _ that’s  _ what his lips taste like.

  
  


bill, for a while, wondered what all of that was, and where it was going to go. for a few days, all ben and bill could do was kiss and hide together in bedrooms and closets and hallways and park benches and forest trails. after what bill felt like was too long, they were (again) in bill’s bedroom, crouched down in the far corner behind some vintage desk, with arms intertwined and fingers tracing sensitive skin.

 

bill laid a sweet hand onto ben’s jawline, as ben peppered kisses from bill’s neck and down to his collarbones. “ben,” he bit out, “s-stop f-f-for a second.”

 

ben pulled away, furrowing his brow quizzically. “what’s wrong, b?

 

“w-we haven’t told a-a-anyone,” bill gushed, biting his lip. “i’m just...w-wondering w-why?”

 

ben sighed, leaning his back against the wall as his eyes danced over bill’s. he propped his chins onto his knees, curling an arm around his legs. shuffling nervously, he said, “beverly knows.” he looked at bill, although bill’s eyes were stone and bill knew that he’d caught ben in a lie. “okay, she knows i like you, she doesn’t know how that’s turned out.”

 

“yeah,” bill nodded, pursing his lips. “why?”

 

ben was silent and sort of sad looking and bill’s heart started pounding at the thought of what he would say. would he say _ because i don’t really like you? _ after all those poems, all the kissing and the tenderness and intimacy of it all, would ben still feel the same, or was it some firecracker love that started with an explosion and went up in smoke?

 

“i’m scared,” ben admitted, and though that wasn’t much better, bill’s heart slowed a little bit. ben went on, “i’m scared that if we tell them, it will stop being real, o-or they’ll j-judge us-”

 

bill cut him off. “first of a-all, y-you’re stuttering l-l-like me. i-it’s w-weird, stop.” ben laughed, despite it all. “s-secondly, why wouldn’t they a-accept us?” bill smiled gently, laying his hand onto ben’s in comfort. “p-practically everyone i-in this group is, l-like, gay o-or whatever.” ben laughed again, resting his forehead in the hollows of bill’s neck and shoulder. “i’m s-serious,” bill ran his other hand through ben’s hair, the one on ben’s hand turning and intertwining their fingers.

 

ben nodded, “we can tell them.” he paused, pouting dramatically and staring into bill’s eyes. “sorry i’m scared,” he apologized sweetly, sadly.

 

“it’s o-okay,” bill assured him, “i’m s-scared too.”

  
  


another three days later, the losers all huddled up in ben and mike’s shared apartment on the old, shitty couch in front of the tv. beverly rolled her eyes at the drama of it all, and she quipped, “ben, what the hell?”

 

the others laughed, ben flushing red a little, even more so when bill laid his own hand onto ben’s and smiled gently. bill thought to himself about how  _ cutecutecute  _ ben was when he blushed, and how _ oh my god, i did that, i did that! _

 

“okay,” ben stood up from his spot on the couch, wiping his sweaty palms onto his jeans. “i called you all over here for an announcement, so that’s what i’ll do.” he scratched his head, tapped his toes, bit his lip; he danced through every nervous jitter that he had and bill tried  _ so hard _ not to laugh at his boyfriend/thing. he took a deep breath, before he blurted, “i’m bisexual.”

 

richie cheered, making the others laugh. he winked at ben, saying, “nice, haystack.”

 

“is that it?” mike quiered. “because we’re totally okay, and you don’t have to be nervous about that stuff.” the others nodded in agreement.

 

ben shook his head hastily, and croaked out a, “no.” the losers were so patient and kind and bill was so proud of his boyfriend/thing for standing up there, albeit awkwardly, and opening up to his friends. ben simpered, “me and bill are, um.” he broke off to look at bill, and bill nodded assuringly, with a beam gracing his lips. “we’re, like, dating. i guess. yeah.”

 

bill snorted. “you g-guess?” ben blushed and bill felt that  _ cutecutecute  _ and that  _ oh my god, i did that  _ all over again.

 

“shut up,” he joked. rolling his eyes, he turned to the group. “is that okay?” he shuffled and wrang his hands.

 

the reactions of the losers were, admittedly, exactly as bill expected. richie whistled and wiggled his brows. mike smiled and cheered along with richiw. stan rolled his eyes and said  _ “obviously.” _ eddie smacked stan’s shoulder playfully, before chirping in with an  _ “of course, guys.” _

 

beverly’s reaction, though, was something bill would not have put money on, but he was honestly not surprised.

 

she jumped to her feet, throwing her arms around ben as she tackled him. he lifted up his arms to hold her up, bill immediately moving to balance ben. she kissed ben and bill all over their faces, making everyone in the room laugh. “i’m so happy you got off your ass, ben.”

 

“beverly!” he scolded with bright, red cheeks. “you’re too much.”

 

“tell me more, beverly,” bill joked, helping her down from ben’s body. ben pushed at bill’s shoulder, scrunching his nose and glaring. “hey!” bill exclaimed, “rude.”

 

the remaining losers stood up as well, richie shouting, “group hug!” laughter erupted in the room, and bill couldn’t have been more grateful for the family he had chosen. ben’s hand grabbed his, and ben squeezed ever so gently. bill smiled again.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you didn't hate it! comment & give kudos, please, it would make me very happy!
> 
> tumblr: peterporkerrr.tumblr.com  
> instagram: elizabeth.kathleen  
> twitter: littlebit9043


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